I'm sure you've got some Johnny Manziel opinions, but my boy thinks he's the most awesome football player there is. After finding out the Cleveland Browns drafted Johnny Manziel, Kyle kept saying: I can't wait to root for the Cleaning Browns!
Mike was taking Kyle to dinner, and he asked if Kyle wanted to eat at the restaurant or take it home. When they were nearly there, Mike said, "I can't remember, Kyle, did you want to eat there or take it home?
Kyle: Seriosuly, daddy? Did you forget to put it in your head?
Upon spotting a vintage Mustang pulling out of the gas station: Look at that fancy car! I wonder if it's Fancy Car Day.
Kyle, catching a glimpse of a boxing match on TV: Those best friends look like they may be arguing.
Kyle was finishing watching a Curious George episode before bed.
Me: Bedtime after this.
Kyle: Do you think you might change your mind?
Me: No, sorry, buds.
Kyle: I had to try.
Our fridge went on the outs right about the time Mike left town. As I put Kyle to bed, I told him the ice maker wasn't working (he usually gets a glass of ice water at bedtime), but that we'd fix it soon.
Kyle: How will we fix it without Daddy?
Me: Hey, I could fix it.
Kyle: I don't think that's true, Mommy.
I took Kyle to Panera for dinner, and he held the door open for me.
Me: Buds, you're the sweetest!
(After dinner)
Kyle: Can I stay up late and watch George tonight?
Me: No, not tonight.
Kyle: But I held the door open for you.
Mike and I spent our anniversary apart. I told Kyle I was sad about it.
Kyle: Mommy, you can just kiss Daddy when he gets home.
(Photo credit: Natalie Seeboth Photography)
Kyle, spotting a spider in the living room, and then sighing: We should call him an outsect, not an insect, because he doesn't belong in here. (I'll let the insect vs arachnid lesson slide here, because it was so cute.)
Mike: Brush your teeth, Buds.
Kyle: Why do I have to brush my teeth?
Mike: Because...
Kyle: Because doesn't make any sense.
Kyle: Can we fly my rocket this weekend?
Me: Sure, if the weather is nice.
Kyle: Well, I heard it was going to be 70 degrees on Sunday.
Me: What habitat did you learn about today?
Kyle: The rainforest
Me: Cool! What animals live there?
Kyle: Lions.
Me: I don't think they do, buds.
Kyle: Oh! Right. Elephants.
Me (talking to Kyle on his birthday): You're five! Do you feel different?
Kyle: Yes.
Me: What's different?
Kyle: Well, I know everything now.
Kyle, looking at the grocery list I was writing: Wow, that's quite the list you have there.
Kyle, saying goodnight to Mike when Mike asked if he wanted to stay up an extra few minutes to watch the Olympics: Hold on, let me just ask my mom if that's okay first.
I usually tell Kyle he hustled really good at soccer practice, and have been for at least a year. The other day, after practice:
Kyle: Did I hustle?
Me: You did! You hustled great.
Kyle: I don't really know what hustle means.
Kyle, after I helped him with something: You're a genius! Let's not tell Daddy, though, okay?
Kyle wrote a story at school and was pretty proud of it. He couldn't find it when we got home.
Kyle: Hey! Where's my word picture?
Me: Your what, buds?
Kyle: You know, my word picture? That I wrote about you and Daddy?
(He thinks stories are called word pictures! Adorable.)
You know what I wasn't really expecting from age three? I wasn't expecting to have conversations with Kyle like he's just another person I speak to in the course of my day. Which sounds ridiculous, I know, especially considering how often I spoke to three year olds before Kyle. But, still, the conversations have caught me by surprise. For example, while I'm brushing my teeth in the morning, Kyle will yell from his room about not being able to find a particular jacket he wants to wear and then I'll hear him mumble under his breath, "I thought it was right here." What is that? That's something a PERSON would say, a person with thoughts and opinions and memories completely apart from me. It's mind-blowing in an almost better way than the first steps and first words and first other things were.
I'll say, "Let's go to Target, we need hummus and paper towels and..." "I think we need juice, too." "Oh yeah?" "Yeah, I think we're out." LIKE HE'S JUST A PERSON, WHO NOTICES OUR JUICE LEVELS.
I was always more excited about having a child than I was about having a baby, if I'm being totally straight with you. Now, don't get me wrong. I LOVE BABIES. I love holding babies and buying things for babies and throwing baby showers and...handing babies back to their mothers. Give me a KID, that's more my speed. Still, I'm just repeatedly shocked, stunned, floored by how cool it is to have an actual conversation about football or Thanksgiving or new shoes with a person I MADE. I made him! And now I'm giving him an abbreviated story of the first Thanksgiving (minus all the plagues and deaths and stuff) and while I tell him about it, HE NODS. HE NODS AND RETAINS THE INFORMATION.
He's in this phase where he's starting to hear words I don't want him to repeat. Words like dumb and chubby (Tangled, what's up with the use of THAT?) and stupid and other words I just don't want him to use so flippantly and without thought. So, we tell him these words aren't nice or sweet and we should try to choose other words. Somehow, this has made him hesitant to use ANY word he's unfamiliar with. "Mommy, can I say the word...spectacular?" I just...the brain of a three year old. Guys, it's THE BEST THING EVER. (Also, yes. You can call your mother spectacular.)
Speaking of Tangled, we watched it this weekend for the first time and I loved the paper lanterns. You may remember we did this in Vieques (and nearly set the entire island on fire) and I've bought some to let go in our backyard for my 31st birthday. So, when we watched Tangled I said, "Oh, I want to do that for my birthday!" and when we watched the movie for a second time, Kyle turned to me when they first lit the lanterns and said, "Mommy, we're going to do that for your birthday. It's going to be beautiful."
We were getting groceries out of the car just tonight and Molly wandered out of the yard (AS SHE DOES) and Kyle said, "Oh, Molly! Get out of the street. Mom, she's in the street again." He was just potty-trained THIS YEAR and now he's rolling his eyes at Molly's disobedience WITH US. It's something else. It's really something else.
He's such a person, and I know this isn't NEWS and I'm not the first mother on earth to raise a baby into a person, but I have to tell you, there is the Grand Canyon and the Pyramids and Arches National Park (which literally caught my breath in my throat) and the Northern Lights and democracy and all those lions-and-puppies-as-friends YouTube videos and then there's having a real conversation with your child.
Miracles, all of them.
Kyle, YOU are spectacular.
We had a funeral to go to yesterday, which was horrible by nature, of course, but then I got in the car with Kyle and the low tire pressure light came on and I drove, white-knuckled, and we hit every red light between our house and the church and Kyle was coming off a virus and both Mike and I were in just very bad, no-good moods, and Kyle kept on chattering about "is this left or right?" (which is his favorite question of the moment; asking which direction we're going), and I was trying very hard to keep my patience but there was probably an edge to my answers, sure.
"Mommy."
"Yes, buds."
"I like you."
Oh, well, edge? Gone.
"I like you, too, buds. I like you so, so, so much."
He's so damn likable.
5:30 pm: I leave work with plenty of time to get home so we can all ride to Kyle's first swim lesson together.
6:09: It's balls hot outside, here let me show you this picture I took of my temperature gauge while I sat in traffic. (That says 117 degrees. I do not live on the sun.)
6:27: As I turn onto my street, I realize we're out of swim diapers. Which makes SWIM lessons problematic.
6:28: "BABE, I'LL MEET YOU AT THE POOL, MUST GET SWIM DIAPERS," "Uh, okay."
6:30: Zip into Walgreens. Choose the only swim diapers they have, which are both stupid and expensive.
6:31: Get stuck behind a lady who decides Monday, August 2nd will be the day she forgets how to use her debit card. Of course.
6:35: Still made awesome time, so "BABE, NEVERMIND. MEET YOU AT HOME." "Uh, okay."
6:40: Zoom into the house, sweating (see above picture), change out of my jeans into a very breathable skirt, snuggle Kyle for .5 seconds because WE MUST GO, EVERYONE IN THE CAR.
6:45: Pull out of our driveway. Bitch the entire half mile to the pool about how hot it is.
6:50: Park, start walking toward the pool when Mike says, "You grabbed the towel on the couch, right?" "Uh, no." "Why not?" "I didn't see it!" "It was right there!" "Well, if I had seen it, do you think I would have decided not to bring it to SWIM LESSONS?"
6:53: I get back in the car to go retrieve the towel.
6:55: To his defense, it was right there on the couch.
6:59: I MADE IT! I AM NOT A BAD MOTHER!
7:00: Swim lessons did not start on time, I'd like it noted.
7:03: In the pool. Kyle's in heaven.
7:10: I've taken 50 pictures, have 15 mosquito bites, and have watched the very sweet, very enthusiastic teenage instructor try to coax my 18-month-old into repeating the "no running around the pool" rule to her. Yeah, lady, that's not gonna happen.
7:15: Pride oozes out of me as my 18-month-old climbs out of the pool by himself, the correct way. (One elbow, the other elbow, one leg, the other leg.)
7:17: No, really, he cannot repeat pool rules, lady. STOP TRYING.
7:20: First and only meltdown. Thankfully there's a rogue four-year-old who's wandered over to our class and is LOSING HIS MIND because he cannot climb the slide. It's drowning out my kid whining because he does not want to blow any more bubbles.
7:30: Class is over. I mentally imagine introducing myself to all the other parents so I can add more "friends with kids near Kyle's age" to my circle, but I chicken out and just smile instead. (There are another two weeks left of class. Plenty of time to muster the courage.)
7:31: I tell Kyle how good he was in class, and he claps for himself for the next 15 minutes.
7:32: We can't remember where we parked. Mike tries to convince me we now have a navy blue Jeep instead of a black one.
7:33: Mike is wrong.
7:35: Sweet, sweet air conditioning.
I was without Kyle in Portland, so I tried to step up and help with Cherie's twins. I even picked them both up at one point because they wanted me to, and I'll be damned if I won't prove how good I can multi-task if you challenge me.
Post-nap, pre-diaper change one day, I had Dane on the changing table and Cherie said, "Have you always been maternal? Or did it come with Kyle?"
"Uh ... I dunno."
"You're good with the boys. Really good."
"I was a preschool teacher and a nanny but you feel you gain some credibility when you have your own, I guess?"
"I'm surprised, a little."
"What?"
"That you're so good at it. You're tough, you're on top of it, you're good."
"Mike thought I'd be a doormat too, that I'd let Kyle get away with everything and be soft and ... "
"You're not. I'm really impressed."
"Thank you, Cherie."
Later that trip she told me she doesn't like to give away compliments easily, which makes sense since some of the best things I've ever heard have come from her.
She's like Mike in that way. They don't compliment often or easily so when they do, you feel it. It stays with you. You carry it to get you through the internet trolls and the bad work reviews and the mean customer service reps.
Some people's words carry you through.
Some people like her.
Hey, guys, here's my nephew!
It's been awhile since I've mentioned Noah (shame on me), but you can read a little more about him here and here.
Yesterday, my sister told me Noah asked her for cookies after dinner. COOKIES, NOT COOKIE, you see. Two, not one. Rachel told him he could only have one, that's just what being a kid is all about. So, my almost-four-year-old nephew said:
"How about this. How about I put two cookies on my plate. I'll eat one and then we can see if you've changed your mind."
If it's any indication, this blog will get much funnier in a couple years when Kyle's his age.
